


How to Civilize a Kaleesh Warlord

by Babble



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dantooine, Drama, Gen, M/M, No Sex, Order 66, Redemption, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:07:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24058717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Babble/pseuds/Babble
Summary: When Obi-Wan Kenobi and General Grievous cross blades on Utapau, the infamous droid commander ends up captured instead of destroyed. Before Grievous can be sent to Coruscant to face justice, the 212th Attack Battalion turns on their Jedi general. Now Grievous must work with his former enemy to escape the planet, meet up with some tenuous allies, and rediscover his identity in a galaxy forever changed.
Relationships: General Grievous/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 51
Kudos: 141





	1. Ruination

"Prepare to move out of orbit. I will be up in a few moments."

Grievous didn't wait for a response. He switched off the comlink as his Scooter soared over the edge of the Utapaun platform, blaster bolts of crimson and cerulean flying past like falling stars. The strange skeletal arms of the cliff city reached out into the abyss, as if searching for something they had lost. He landed hard on the next level, but hardly felt the force of impact. Behind him, the Jedi's varactyl yelped in pain, its claws scraping on the durasteel. _The lizard scarcely made it. Your luck is running out, Kenobi._ He grabbed the electrostaff from the bottom of the wheel and held it tightly to his side.

The Scooter screamed across the high plaza, hugging tightly to the rim. The sinkhole below seemed hungry to him, like one of the mighty warbeasts of Kaleesh. It was certainly being fed enough flesh this day. On the levels below, thousands of droids and clones fought mercilessly for every metre of ground. Mechanical scraps and human limbs alike went flying into the colossal pit. He savored the screams of the dying replicates, wondering if he would ever grow tired of hearing Jango Fett perish. He laughed harshly, swerving the Scooter to avoid a heavy turret emplacement. From behind, the pattering footsteps of the varactyl. The sound brought a quick end to his mirth. On any other day, Grievous would have welcomed a chance to finally skewer Obi-Wan Kenobi. Without Skywalker to protect him, the arrogant fool would fall quickly. But there was no time.

Already, the tide of this conflict was turning. The clones might be falling in droves, but they were taking too many of the Separatists' useless soldiers with them. The greater portion of their forces had been lost over Coruscant, along with Count Dooku. Now was the time to retreat and lick their wounds, as much as it rankled Grievous to admit it. The pathetic remnants of the Separatist Council were already away, bound for Mustafar on the orders of Lord Sidious. Grievous would have to join them if there was any hope of winning this war. Killing Kenobi would taste sweet, he could not deny it, but the death of one Jedi would not destroy the Republic.

 _Nearly to the landing platform._ Grievous swerved his Scooter off the rim. Utapau rushed past him, a blur of colors and shapes and explosions. The air was thick with the scent of discharged tibanna and pulverized stone. He landed neatly and charged through the tunnel without pausing. The weak natives cringed and pulled themselves tightly against the walls, their terrified faces a blur to Grievous as he passed. The varactyl shrieked, nearly overloading his audio receptors. _Blast!_ Grievous looked to his right. Kenobi was directly alongside him. The Jedi's face was tight with concentration, but he did not draw his weapon as Grievous would have expected. _Has the worm lost his lightsaber?_ There was only a moment to analyze the situation. Grievous lashed out with the electrostaff, aiming for the lizard's neck. Kenobi grabbed the shaft of the weapon and pulled it from his grasp.

Together, the Scooter and varactyl leapt from the tunnel's edge. Kenobi slammed his beast against the heavy vehicle, and in the air there was no way to correct his course. Grievous snarled and leapt from the Scooter. The landing platform rose to meet him. Past the edge of the pad, the lizard and wheel flew past. The harsh landing sent a jolt through his metal legs, and when Grievous took a step forward he knew something had been knocked out of alignment in his servomotors. _Jedi scum!_ No matter: the sleek lines of the _Soulless One_ were a welcome sight.

"General!"

Grievous turned. Kenobi, battered but alive, stood on the other side of the platform with the electrostaff. The young Jedi's brown hair and beard were dirty with pale dust. "Going somewhere?"

 _No time for this._ Grievous groaned in frustration and pulled the blaster from his side, quickly firing at the Jedi. Kenobi blocked the bolts easily with his staff and charged forward.

The end of the staff took Grievous in the stomach, and his blaster went flying over the edge of the pad. The next blow bent the metal of his forelimb.

 _Enough!_ At Kenobi's next attack, Grievous grabbed the humming electrostaff and hurled a barrage of Kaleesh curses in his enemy's direction. He discarded the staff over the rim and backhanded Kenobi, savoring the answering crunch of bone. The Jedi went flying across the stone platform.

"I don't need a weapon to destroy you, filth." Kenobi picked himself up and raised his brow, blood streaming from his broken nose.

"Nor I you, my good General." Kenobi wiped his face with the sleeve of his robes, and took another step back. He made a show of looking around the platform. "Though it seems we've run out of efficient ways to kill each other. I've never been much of a brawler."

Grievous chuckled harshly. He could take this Jedi apart in a heartbeat, with nothing but his claws and rage. _But Lord Sidious awaits. Time to leave this poor excuse for a planet._ He looked up. More Republic gunships were descending from the atmosphere, and Venator cruisers filled the distant sky. The infernal clones would be coming soon to reinforce their master.

"Bah!" Grievous turned towards the _Soulless One_. "I will deal with you another time, scum. My presence is needed elsewhere."

"Oh, no. I can't simply allow you to leave."

"Try to stop me. Not even Skywalker will recognize what's left of you."

He had the cockpit open and was nearly inside the _Soulless One_ when a shuddering wave of Force roared in from behind. The latches crumpled and tore, and the transparisteel viewport was shorn off entirely and sent spinning into the sinkhole. The control panel exploded, sending blue arcs of power through Grievous' limbs. He roared and leapt away, collapsing on to the platform. Acrid smoke rose from the front of his crippled starfighter.

"I did warn you." Grievous didn't need to look at Kenobi to see the grin on his face. "Your master is dead, general, and the Outer Rim Sieges have turned in the Republic's favor. Judging by the amount of times you've fled from our encounters, you obviously value your continued existence. This war is coming to an end. You can't run forever. Surrender to me, and I'll see you receive a fair trial."

"Ignorant fool." Grievous dragged himself slowly towards the rim. _Must find another ship. Keep Kenobi talking_. "Your arrogance blinds you. Lord Tyranus was but a pawn in another's game. My master lives. Even as we speak, he is orchestrating the fall of your precious Republic." He paused to cough, every guttural inhalation sending a spike of pain through his few organs.

"You speak of the one called Sidious." Kenobi frowned, and took a step forward. "It was unfortunate that Dooku died before he could tell us more about his mysterious master. Perhaps you'll be more forthcoming."

 _Ha_. _Little chance of that._ Grievous had personally witnessed the interrogation techniques of the so-called compassionate Jedi Order, long before the Clone War. He would throw himself into Utapau's sinkhole before going willingly into their custody. He had pulled himself to the edge of the pad, but it had done him little good. Looking down into the mayhem and chaos, Grievous saw no platforms that he could leap to in his condition. Only the shimmering surface of the crater lake, far below.

"It's over." Kenobi's voice was close. Grievous turned over, and hissed at the sight of the Jedi looking down on him. His legs remained unresponsive. "If you make us wait for the clones, General, I can't promise they'll take you alive. You've killed an awful lot of their friends."

"Not nearly enough," Grievous snarled, grabbing Kenobi's leg in his heavy claws. He gave himself a moment to savor the Jedi's expression of shock before he launched them both off the platform with the remainder of his strength. _If my story ends on this worthless planet, so too does yours. Farewell, General Kenobi._

* * *

"I have to say, general..." Kenobi paused to lean forward and take a breath, water dripping from his face. "This was truly not one of your brighter ideas."

Grievous coughed miserably. His lower half was little more than a slagged mess of broken parts and leaking hydraulics, now. He'd only managed to pull himself to shore with Kenobi's help, and Grievous knew the memory of the Jedi's rescue would haunt him for the rest of his life. There were numerous dents in the carapace of his exoskeleton, but fortunately the synthsin sack containing his vital organs was unharmed and water proofed. His arms had survived relatively intact. The same could not be said for the electro-drivers that enabled Grievous to make full use of his unconventional fighting style. _Little better than an organic Kaleesh, now._ Though even the weakest of his race had been able to walk around on two feet. Grievous couldn't even turn his head. He looked up at the dogfighting starfighters in the lower atmosphere, watched a wing of tri-fighters die under the firepower of the Republic's ground batteries. The last of the Confederacy transport ships would be long gone by now. _Along with any hope of escape._

A white-armored hand entered his vision, and a durasteel hook dug in painfully at his neck connector. Grievous growled and swiped at the clone with his working arm, but the trooper easily dodged out of reach.

"Not so tough now, are ya?"

"Stay sharp, Boil." A clone voice of firmer constitution chimed in. "I've watched this one slip away too many times."

There were more footsteps around him, more infernal clones. Further hooks were fastened to the other parts of his exoskeleton, and the clones were careful to stay out of range of his arms. Grievous roared and pounded his fists in the sand. _How humiliating. The leader of the greatest droid army in the galaxy, undone by the surface of a lake and a handful of vat-grown organics._

"Aw, now we've gone and upset him." Boil rested his hand on the sidearm on his belt. "Begging your pardon, Commander. But we don't accept surrender from any of the other droids. What makes the head clanker any different? Seems to me he's the one that deserves it most."

Kenobi spoke. "Though it may be hard to believe, Grievous is a living being, at least in part. I'd have no qualms about cutting him down in combat, but it is not the Jedi way to execute the helpless. Pull him out."

The clones heaved on the cables, straining with the effort. Grievous seethed quietly as he was dragged from the lake on to the rocky beach. His head twisted involuntarily, so he could take a full measure of his gloating adversaries. Kenobi stood in soaked robes next to his Commander, the one they called Cody. More of the Jedi's orange-marked legion surrounded them. The ones not pulling the cables had blaster rifles trained on Grievous' head. Something told him the weapons were not set to stun. _Fire on me, you insects. Put my tortured existence to an end._

"Kriff, he's a big one!" Boil dropped his cable and stumbled back, panting.

Kenobi shook more water from his hair. "How goes the rest of the fighting?"

"This battle's all but won, sir." Cody nodded towards the upper levels. "Trapper and his men took out the tactical droid in Sector B-7. The remaining units are in disarray, and what ships our cruisers haven't destroyed are fleeing the system. All that's left is to mop up the remnants."

"Fine work, Commander." Kenobi clapped his commander on the shoulder. "Give my regards to the rest of the 212th."

A couple of clone engineers ran forward, armed with fusion cutters. They stood before Commander Cody and saluted crisply.

"Split the clanker from his lower half," Cody ordered. "We're not dragging all of his worthless hide back to the Core."

The engineers made quick work of it. Grievous fell forward onto the rocks when they were finished. There was no physical pain, but he had never craved more the feeling of a clone trooper's helmet being crushed under his talons.

"You'll pay for this, clone. I will obliterate Tipoca City from orbit with my turbolasers. The glass of your growth vats will be grains of sand in a fiery wind."

Boil snorted. "While you're at it, take one of those cutters to his vocabulator. Might improve his disposition."

"Now, now," Kenobi warned. "If we go cutting a piece away every time he threatens us, by the time we reach Coruscant the Senate will have nothing left to put on trial."

Cody chuckled. "Very good, sir. Oh, by the way." He unhooked a lightsaber from his waist and handed it to Kenobi. "I think you'll be needing this."

"Thank you, Cody. I'm going to meet with Tion Medon and see how his people have fared. Have your men secure our friend here in one of the transport shuttles." Kenobi put his fingers to his lips and whistled. Somewhere in the distance, his varactyl yelped in answer.

"Yes, sir." Cody's comlink trilled, and he stepped away. Boil and some other troopers approached Grievous with more cables.

"You'd better cooperate," Boil said. "It's a long way to Coruscant, you know. And you're about as helpless as a nuna calf. Who knows what could happen on the way home?"

Grievous ignored the clone's feeble threats. He knew these spineless lab experiments wouldn't dare disobey their Jedi general.

The varactyl's heavy footsteps echoed off the lake. A blue hologram materialized from the comlink in Cody's palm. It took a familiar shape.

"Commander Cody, the time has come. Execute Order 66."

"Yes, my lord."

Lord Sidious vanished before Grievous could even process that he'd appeared in the first place. The troopers carrying the cables dropped them and reached for their weapons. Grievous hissed, waiting for the bolts of light that would spell an end to his life. But the dark barrels of their rifles turned another direction.

"New orders, Cody?" Kenobi asked, half-turned towards the approaching varactyl.

"Kenobi!"

Grievous' warning gave the Jedi just enough time to ignite his lightsaber. He rolled away from the first barrage of fire, and came up to slice through Boil's rifle and the weapons of the two troopers beside him.

Cody and the other clones didn't pause. Boil and the others were cut down swiftly by the bolts intended for Kenobi, and the Jedi soon had his hands full deflecting blaster fire. He reflected the bolts back at the clones' weapons, intending to disable, but the troopers just picked up new blasters or drew vibroknifes. They offered no explanation or demands. The expressionless T-shaped visors were as devoid of soul as any droid face Grievous had ever beheld.

Kenobi couldn't keep up this dance forever. And once the clones were done with him, they'd turn to Grievous. _Fool. His mercy is going to kill the both of us._

He reached out across the beach. Boil's DC-17 had fallen just within reach. With any luck, the clones would be distracted by Kenobi. Grievous grabbed the pistol and opened fire on the four troopers. Two of them fell quickly. By the time Cody and his remaining clone had turned towards the new threat, Kenobi had rushed forward.

He clubbed one clone with the hilt of his saber and then brought the line of blue energy up through Cody's arm. The commander grunted and scrambled backward on the rocks, his helmet falling off.

"Explain." Kenobi held the tip of his lightsaber to Cody's throat. "Now."

"Traitor," Cody growled, and lunged forward. The vibroknife sunk into Kenobi's shoulder. The Jedi gasped and reacted without thinking, his lightsaber cutting up into the clone's armored torso.

Kenobi fell to his knees, blood already soaking his arm. Cody fell limply on the rocks. His head turned towards Grievous. The light was going out of the Commander's eyes. What was it that Grievous saw in them, in the seconds before the end? It might have been confusion, like the eyes of a mad Corellian slicehound being put down by its beloved master. Or perhaps it was simple relief.

"Shall we both die on this beach, Kenobi? More of them will be coming." Grievous asked as the varactyl arrived. "Has your pathetic sense of mercy perished along with your once loyal soldiers?"

"I _should_ just leave you here." Kenobi reached into his fallen friend's pack, scrambling for a bacta patch. "No doubt you've something to do with this mess."

Truthfully, Grievous had no idea what was happening. If this was a part of Lord Sidious' grand design, the Sith Lord had not seen fit to enlighten his droid general. But there would be time to sort out that particular resentment, later.

"If you mean for me to die, use your lightsaber. Let me leave this galaxy as a proud warrior. I will not be target practice for your malfunctioning clones."

Kenobi rose weakly to his feet. The bacta patch was already making short work of his shoulder injury, but Grievous doubted the Jedi would be deflecting many blaster bolts in his condition. _He needs me, disabled as I may be. I've become more useful to him than his precious grown soldiers._ It would be a lie to say Grievous was not enjoying the irony of the situation.

The Jedi looked from his lightsaber to the varactyl, then down at Grievous. Finally, he sighed and shook his head.

"Very well. But you'd better not slow us down."


	2. There is No War Here

"Hush, hush." Kenobi murmured soothing words to the varactyl, stroking its long feathered neck. The beast bent lower beneath the cargo containers and cooed softly. A squad of clone troopers were passing by. They had three captive Pau'ans in their midst. From his awkward position in the cargo net, Grievous could just see the tops of their pale and ridged heads. The clones he could not see at all, nor they him. It was fortunate Jango Fett had not been an exceptionally tall individual.

The rhythmic footsteps of the clones stopped. A comlink trilled.

"This is CT-9381." The clone took a step away from his squad as he spoke into the communicator. "Sector A-9 is clear. Natives subdued without casualties."

There was a burst of static before the response. "Copy, CT-9381. CC-2224 and six others washed up from the crater lake. One survivor. Reports that Kenobi and the droid were working together. Partial remains of General Grievous were also discovered on site, and the commander's wounds were consistent with those caused by a lightsaber. Command of the 212th has fallen to you."

"Trapper," Kenobi said softly, his brow furrowing.

Grievous wondered if the Jedi even realized he'd spoken the clone's name. _It seems even the great negotiator can be rattled._

"Acknowledged," Trapper said. "Send three squads to the spaceport on the Civic Level and lock down any vessel with a working hyperdrive. Notify the cruisers to shoot down any ship that tries to leave the atmosphere."

"Yes, sir." The comlink fizzled again. "What of the native population?"

"Our sole mission is to execute the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi for treason against the Republic. Destruction of Grievous is a secondary objective. Round up the Pau'ans and Utai into camps. Dispose of any that resist. We'll search every crevice of this planet if we have to."

"Copy, CC-9381."

The clones continued their soulless march. Kenobi snuck a look past the containers and they waited several minutes before continuing on. He pulled his hood over his face and tossed a blanket over the cargo net. A humanoid figure riding a varactyl was a common enough city in Pau City. A varactyl dragging a half-destroyed droid general behind it was decidedly less so.

No words passed between them. Grievous was consumed with his thoughts, and he suspected the same to be true of his loathsome Jedi companion. _Why did I warn this slime about his impending death?_ Grievous could have remained silent and watched the clone troopers shoot down his most hated adversary. They would have killed Grievous afterwards, of course, but at least he would have gone into death knowing that Obi-Wan Kenobi had died confused and alone, betrayed by his own soldiers. Now he was being pulled around like a malfunctioning protocol droid, hiding from mere clone troopers.

Only one thought brought him comfort: the same thought that was probably troubling Kenobi at this very moment. If only the clones on the beach had turned against their Jedi general, the incident could have been attributed to a local malfunction. But now they had seen that Kenobi's entire battalion had undergone a similar metamorphosis.

Gone was the saccharine camaraderie that separated these vat-grown soldiers from Grievous' own battle droids. Gone was their devotion to the Jedi who had led them into battle and bled with them so many times before. They sought Kenobi's death with a ferocity and fervor that not even the best droid could match, at the expense of their supposed morality and honor. If the entire 212th had turned, perhaps the rest of the clone battalions had as well. And without the Jedi to lead it, the Grand Army of the Republic would be no match for the combined forces of the Separatist Alliance.

 _Jedi fool. He will bring me to Coruscant expecting a trial, but my armies will be waiting._ Grievous could only hope that spineless Viceroy Gunray and his lackeys wouldn't squander this opportunity. If all the clones were turning against the Jedi, now was the perfect time to strike at the Republic.

"We'll have to make our way down to the Produce Level," Kenobi muttered, perhaps to distract himself from dark ponderings. He was still favoring the arm his commander had stabbed. "Trapper doesn't have the numbers to occupy the entire city. He'll concentrate his forces on Civic and Wealth, where the bulk of the space-faring vessels are housed. Produce is crowded, and light seldom reaches that far down. It will be easier to conceal ourselves."

"How long do you plan to stay on this miserable rock? Hiding like womp rats will get us nowhere. I would not put it past your clones to glass Pau City from orbit, once they have exhausted their search. It is what I would do."

Kenobi paused before responding. "I hadn't considered that."

"Hah." Grievous shifted in the net, trying to reduce the turbulence. "You have never been hunted before. Adapt to the new world, Jedi. Or die quickly, and leave me your blade. Your short-sightedness will not be my doom."

"You've collected your last lightsaber, general." Kenobi's hands tightened on the reins. "I intend to personally deliver you to the Supreme Chancellor. Except this time, you'll be the one in chains."

Despite his words, the Jedi seemed weaker than Grievous had ever seen him. At times Kenobi almost sagged in the saddle, and what glimpses Grievous received of his face showed him a deeply troubled man. _Excellent. The weaker Kenobi is, the easier it will be to slip away from him when we are free of this wretched place._

Grievous cut a hole in the blanket with his claw and peered out with one reptilian eye. He clutched the clone trooper Boil's blaster tight against his chassis. Utapau had nine moons, but only three were visible that night. They hung in the sky like swollen eggs, the ripe clutch of some nameless stellar leviathan. Kenobi led them down a long ramp of bleached bone that ran along the edge of the city. Deeper in the sinkhole, lanterns were glowing and machines of war were at work.

The clones had transformed from an army of saviors to an occupying power at a speed that impressed even Grievous. He saw mechanical walkers patrolling the streets, the glare of their searchlights in the darkness like exploding stars. Fortunately the varactyl found the end of the ramp before any clones could catch sight of them.

They come out on to a residential level, where tall and thin structures of reformulated fossil sat like krayt dragon's teeth under the crushing weight of a thousand layers of rock. Grievous wondered how these weak creatures had survived so long, living with the constant threat of landslides and collapse. There were no clones in sight, but Kenobi brought them to a shadowed alcove to wait for several minutes before continuing on. The powdered streets were empty and lifeless.

"This is not the Produce Level," Grievous growled.

"Astute observation. I decided to take your advice. We don't have time to travel so far."

Kenobi directed his beast towards one of the larger fossil houses. Behind the house, two varactyls were pinned up in an enclosed yard. They yelped in excitement when they saw Kenobi's varactyl, so the Jedi quickly opened the gate with the Force and brought his own creature inside.

"Have you brought us to a _zoo_?" Grievous bemoaned. His chassis was dragging in the dirt. "I will not hide among filthy farm animals."

A new voice spoke, "Not quite a zoo. This happens to be the residence of the Port Administrator. But I suspect you're aware of that, General Kenobi."

Kenobi grinned wearily. "A pleasure to see you again, master Medon. I'm afraid the war I brought to your planet has...escalated, somewhat."

"That is one way of putting it." The gaunt crimson-robed humanoid beckoned from his porch. "Come inside, quickly. Your clone troopers make hourly patrols. Bring your prisoner, if you must. His carcass will attract undue attention."

Kenobi cut Grievous free of the cargo net and lifted him with the Force. Grievous squeezed his eyes shut. The humiliation was almost unbearable. _Toted around like a Jedi pup, unable to even locomote without assistance. My own people would leave me for the carrion eaters._

Grievous floated past Medon, who eyed him with obvious distaste, and settled on the soft floor inside. Medon and Kenobi entered, and the door slid shut.

The furnishings of the house were sparse and simple. A few round chairs of practical construction, a small kitchen area, and a curtained doorway that no doubt led to a similarly utilitarian sleeping chamber. The Pau'ans were a long-lived and generally amiable race; which had made them an ideal candidate for invasion. Grievous had done his research. If Kenobi and his clones hadn't shown up, the Separatists could have remained hidden here for a century.

Medon moved gracefully to one of the chairs and gestured to the other one. "Please, Master Jedi. Take a seat."

Kenobi seemed to deflate as soon as he sat. His shoulders fell, and he rested his head in his hands.

"Something terrible has happened," he said softly. "A grave disturbance in the Force. I fear the Jedi Order and the Republic are both in great danger."

"Offworld communications have been jammed by the cruisers in orbit." Medon steepled his long pentadactyl fingers. "We have been cut off from the rest of the galaxy."

"Have you any ships I could borrow? The clones are only after me. If I flee Utapau, they may leave your people in peace."

Medon made a thoughtful sound. "You sound unusually certain of that. Please forgive me - ours is a particularly remote sanctuary...but I was under the impression these clone troopers answered to the Jedi."

"It seems there's been a change to the order of things."

One of Kenobi's words sparked a memory for Grievous. He turned himself to face the two wretches before speaking. "Your dead commander received a communication before he turned his blaster on you. Lord Sidious appeared and commanded him to enact 'order sixty-six.'"

"Sidious?" Kenobi's eyes widened. "No, that can't be right." His despair was delicious.

The administrator licked his lips. "This Sidious. He is a known agent of discord within your Republic?"

"More of a myth than a known agent. He's a master of the Dark Side that the Jedi Council has been hunting for months now." Kenobi stood and paced the room, his hands clasped behind him. "Count Dooku told me long ago that Sidious was controlling the Senate. I dismissed his words as a Sith deception. But with what Anakin and I discovered on Oba Diah, that Dooku was Tyranus all along…"

"Hah." Grievous coughed into his elbow joint. "Foolish Jedi, always ten steps behind."

"If Dooku was telling the truth, and if he created the Grand Army for the Republic under the orders of his master…the clones must have been created for this purpose. To execute their own generals when the time came." He turned towards Grievous, his eyebrows flaring. "And what was your role in this plan, general?"

"If I had been privy to Lord Sidious' designs I would have gladly died before divulging them to you. The Jedi are no longer the ultimate power in the galaxy. You were all blind to the rising darkness, and you will _all_ pay for your hubris."

Medon raised a hand for silence. He cocked his head, listening. "Your troopers have begun to search the residences. You cannot hide here for long."

Kenobi put his hand on his lightsaber. "They've locked down the spaceport."

"Of course. But they will not be looking for a ship they think to be destroyed." Medon nodded towards Grievous. "When your clones changed for the worse, I had the Utai seize your unpleasant companion's vessel. It's been repaired and hidden in the level below this one. Fly from Pau City, with all haste, and make certain your army knows you have gone."

"Thank you, administrator. I'm truly grateful." Kenobi's head fell. "And truly sorry, to have brought this on to your people."

"It was not you who housed thousands of battle droids here and made us a target for the Republic." Medon glared at Grievous. "But no matter. Go, now!"

Boil's blaster discharged in a spray of blue plasma. Tion Medon fell like a wroshyr tree, a smoking hole in the chest of his layered robes. The air in the room took on a charged element as the expended Tibanna gas settled. Medon let out one last shuddering gasp before dying, his sharp fingernails tearing the delicate fabric of the floor.

Kenobi pirouetted, his lightsaber activated and at Grievous' throat in a second. The soft humming filled the house. Grievous lowered the blaster.

"What in blazes have you done?" Kenobi's glare was as fiery as the magma rivers of Mustafar. The saber was nearly close enough to melt Grievous' faceplate.

"The clones would have broken this one's will in mere minutes." Grievous turned his head away, unimpressed. He paused to cough into his arm. "He would have betrayed us. We would never have made it to the ship."

"He's the one who _gave_ us the ship!"

"This is no place for your naive Jedi moralizing. Now, it's time to get moving. Or do you want more blood on your hands, Kenobi? I'm sure the clones coming this way will be happy to oblige."

The Jedi closed his eyes, but didn't move his weapon. "I'm struggling to come up with one good reason I shouldn't kill you."

"Hah. As if you'd be capable-"

The lightsaber flashed forward twice. Grievous hissed. His forelimbs fell away like so many droid parts, landing in a messy pile with the destroyed blaster. He held up two charred metal stumps to his faceplate.

A small voice called out, "Father?"

Kenobi and Grievous both turned. From behind the curtain that partitioned the sleeping chambers, a small ridged face peered out. Two tiny black eyes took in the battered Jedi Master, the effectively disabled cyborg general, and the still and smoking form of Port Administrator Medon. The Pau'an child blinked once. Then she slumped backward, and Grievous saw only a glimpse of her frozen expression before the curtain fell back into place.

The AT-RTs were close. The whirring and creaking of their locomotion filled the dead air of Utapau. Somewhere nearby, a clone shouted out orders. Kenobi slipped out of the doorway. For a moment, Grievous thought he had been left to his fate, destined to be discovered by the clone troopers sharing a room with his final victim. _An appropriate end, if nothing else could be said for it._ But eventually, impossibly, Grievous felt himself begin to float across the quiet house and through the opening to the varactyl's yard.

He was secured in the net and Kenobi had led them back on to the street when the searchlights fell on them and voices cried out.

"Blast them!"

The varactyl sprinted down the avenue as white-hot blaster bolts flew past. Grievous was knocked from side-to-side. With no appendages to stabilize himself, he would have been thrown out had Kenobi not tied him into the net. _That slime will regret disarming me when one of those bolts strikes him in the back._ With no way to return fire, the clone walkers trailed the varactyl unopposed. Grievous only saw flashes of them as he was tossed around: white-armoured automatons attending to their duties without passion, their hands wrapped tightly around the components of their control panels. In the moonlight, the orange markings on their chestplates looked almost black.

The varactyl slid around the corner, yelping excitedly. The clones were close enough that Grievous could hear them barking into their comlinks. _No doubt relaying our position to the rest of Kenobi's troopers. We'll never make it off this planet alive, thanks to the Jedi's arrogance._ They passed by heaps of destroyed battle droids, crumbling buildings, and makeshift prisoner tents through which the long shadows of captive Pau'ans could be glimpsed. It occured to Grievous he may have killed Medon for nothing, if the clones pursued them all the way to the ship. _No matter. Wouldn't be the first time._ And with any luck, it wouldn't be the last. That child's face...a stupid little youngling. Didn't she know there was a war raging? How dare she look at him that way.

Kenobi took the varactyl to the edge of the sinkhole. Behind them, heavy mechanical footsteps grew closer. Beyond them was only darkness.

"Jump or die, Kenobi!" Grievous could not help but laugh. The harsh sound, like a wounded animal dying alone, filled the night like a macabre swan song for the two harrowed warriors.

An AT-RT fired. The heavy bolt struck the varactyl's flank, and the beast shrieked in pain. They teetered on the precipice of calamity.

"Blast!" Kenobi cursed. He fumbled for his lightsaber, barely activating it in time to deflect the next shot. The bolt returned to the walker, striking its power cell.

The explosion lit up the night. A wave of heat washed over them, like a kiss from a star. For a moment Grievous could see everything: the remaining walker and its clone operator, shielding his eyes from the blast. A prisoner tent catching aflame, the terrified natives rushing out and the soulless troopers raising their weapons. The steaming green blood pouring on to the duracrete, from the varactyl's uncauterized wound. And the kneeling form of CC-2224, informally known as Trapper, recently appointed commander of the 212th Attack Battalion, calmly aiming a RPS-6 rocket launcher at his former Jedi general.

All of a sudden, being tangled in a cargo net didn't seem very ideal.

"Kenobi!" Grievous called out, hoping to warn the distracted Jedi. But it was too late. The screams of the dying filled the air, and Trapper pulled the trigger. A blinding flash of light forced Grievous to shut his eyes, and moments later his audioreceptors shut down to protect themselves from damage. He felt fiery warmth on what thin muscles remained under his faceplate. Then the ground crumbled away beneath them, the beast's blood washed over him like a fountain, and Kenobi's hand closed around a thin part of his chassis. Grievous shuddered and surrendered to the darkness.


	3. Purge

"Awaken, Qymaen." Callused hands of crimson gently shook his shoulders. Grievous came to consciousness slowly, running his long tongue over scaly lips, and pushed down the small voice in his head that told him this was but a dream. "I want to hunt before starfall."

"Hold fast," Grievous said, savoring the sound of his voice unfiltered by mechanical apparatus. He pushed himself to a sitting position with his wonderfully whole and fleshy arms. "The forests here have never lacked for game, Ronderu. There will be enough slaughter for the both of us."

"My bloodthirst has never been quenched before." Ronderu looked down at him, her yellow eyes dancing under the karabbac mask. "And the Huk have been sighted on the eastern hemisphere. They may beat us to the score."

Grievous' ire rose to the surface, and he reached out for the Czerka Outland rifle that was always kept beside his bed. "Then we will fall on the game and the gods-cursed insects with all our strength. We will wipe the stain of the Huk from this planet like we have on so many others."

Ronderu nodded, her fingers wrapped tightly around the hilts of her twin swords. "Together we are invincible, Qymaen. Someday, all the galaxy will bend to our will."

He was the Dreamer, and she the Dreamt. Together they were the Sheelal, their fates intertwined throughout eternity. Qymaen reached for his mumuu mask, ignoring the fading colors at the edges of his vision, ignoring the slow dissolution of this false reality.

"Do not leave me," Grievous whispered, loathing his desperation but powerless against the overwhelming grief. _Why must I relive this? What god has cursed me?_ "Not again."

The world fell away until only he and Ronderu floated in a void as frigid as the snows of Orto Plutonia. His hands had become mechanical claws. She reached for him, blood spilling from the countless wounds across her torso.

"You have fallen so far, my love." Ronderu stroked his duranium face. "This galaxy has no more need for General Grievous. But Qymaen jai Sheelal can live again."

What was it Kenobi had said, on the landing platform? _This war is coming to an end._ One of the more foolish things the Jedi had ever uttered. There would never be an end to the bloodshed: he had fought the Huk as Qymaen, and he had fought the Republic and the Jedi as Grievous. War was constant, inevitable. _As this conflict ends, another rushes to replace it. But who will be my foe, if the Jedi had all fallen to another's sinister machinations?_

As if she had read his mind, Ronderu spoke: "We were made for war, Qymaen, but that does not mean we need not pick our battles carefully. When hunting the karabbac, one must wait in the shadows for hours or days before delivering the first strike. Your adversary has soundly defeated you, but he has made a fatal mistake: he has left you alive. Stay with the Jedi. Learn of the New Order falling on the galaxy. Before too long, your new enemy will reveal itself."

"I will heed your words," Grievous replied, his voice robotic and raspy once again. His thoughts were becoming floaty and indistinct, like wisps of vapor from a crime lord's hooka.

He woke again, and felt his cracked skull plate dragging against duracrete. Organic and synthetic fluids leaked from his head like deychin tea straining into water. He was still bound up in the cargo net; or at least, what was left of him was.

"Do try to keep quiet, general." Kenobi's contemptible voice. He was the one pulling Grievous along in this humiliating fashion.

"Stay out of my head, Jedi," Grievous snarled, the memory of his dream still fresh. No doubt the vision had been a trick to make him a more compliant prisoner. _Stay with the Jedi,_ the false Ronderu had said. "I will not be fooled by your transparent manipulations."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about." Kenobi paused. "Quiet down. I'm wearing a clone trooper's armor, but that won't fool anyone for long. Especially if they hear your echoing voice."

"How is it that we survived?"

Kenobi sighed. "My poor varactyl broke our fall. She didn't survive. Fortunately, Trapper has been searching on the wrong level. Administrator Medon must have arranged a distraction of some kind. I suppose the only thing he couldn't have anticipated was that you would murder him in cold blood."

Grievous could only see the ceiling of the level: a flat expanse of duracrete, shrouded in the night's gloom. It was fortunate Kenobi did not expect more from him than to stay silent and still, for Grievous was coming to realize he was not capable of much else. His vision swam, the simple images appearing and disappearing again like phantoms. He could barely form coherent thoughts.

"Kenobi," he mumbled. Any normal human wouldn't have been able to hear him. "You will return to Coruscant in failure. Your prize is slipping away from you." This was too much damage, even for him. His life support systems were shutting down, one by one, stars winking out in the wake of a cosmic cataclysm.

"Oh, I don't think so." Kenobi redoubled his pace, and suddenly Grievous was floating alongside the Jedi as he sprinted across the hangar. For a moment Grievous saw the silhouette of the _Soulless One,_ dark and proud and strangely out of place in this primitive docking bay. The cockpit slid open before they even reached the ship, and Kenobi unceremoniously dumped Grievous in the rear seat.

"A passcode." The Jedi cursed, fiddling with the controls. "Why can't it ever be easy?"

Grievous' head had come to lay against the side of the viewport. Distant white figures were descending from the upper level, blaster rifles held at the ready.

"Grievous," Kenobi snapped. "Tell me the passcode, now. We're running out of time."

Blaster fire ricocheted off the thick hull of the ship, but to the general's failing mind they were little more than soft pressures against his falling consciousness.

"General! The code!"

"Ronderu," Grievous rasped. Kenobi's fingers flew across the control pad, and the _Soulless One_ 's engines roared to life. The last thing Grievous saw before once more succumbing to the darkness was a clone trooper being flung away by the charging repulsors. If he'd had a mouth, he'd have smiled.

The next hours passed in flashes of reality. His mind would rise to the surface for a few moments before sinking again into the murky depths of oblivion. Kenobi kept the ship hidden on the plains of Utapau for a while, Grievous surmised. The loose dust hid the _Soulless One_ from aerial view. At some point the Jedi took them into orbit, and no vessels materialized to challenge them. Grievous blinked hazily, his hold on the world ever slipping.

From the front cockpit, a steady series of beeps. Kenobi was activating the ship's comlink.

"Emergency Code Nine Thirteen...I have no contact on any frequency. Are there any Jedi out there?"

A burst of static, and an unfamiliar voice. "Master Kenobi?"

"Senator Organa! My clone troopers turned on me. I need help."

_A senator...bah._ What use was a politician in a time like this? The Jedi still didn't have a true grasp on his situation. Grievous sighed internally and closed his eyes.

Organa replied, "We have just rescued Master Yoda. It seems this ambush has happened everywhere. We're sending you our coordinates."

"I'm on my way." Kenobi hesitated. "There's something else, Senator. I happen to be carrying a prisoner of war."

"One of your clones?"

"Quite the opposite. Be prepared to host an uninvited guest of unpredictable temperament. And...have your medics standing by. As well as your droid technicians."

"Understood. Captain Antilles will make the necessary arrangements."

* * *

When Grievous became aware again, he felt the gravity of a larger ship around him and opened his eyes to behold a stark white corridor of Corellian design. He was on a floating medical gurney. Two humans flanked him, following the gurney: a well-dressed human with black hair, and another human wearing the uniform of a medical officer. The latter regarded Grievous with a perplexed expression.

"I'm not sure what we can do for him, Senator." The medic blinked. "I'm not even certain where to begin. The Tantive IV is set up for emergency care, not reconstructive cybernetic surgery."

"For now, just attend to his few organic components. Save his life, but leave the rest as it is. The last thing the Republic needs right now is a combat-ready General Grievous."

"We'll do our best."

Grievous tried to summon the energy to growl at the fools, but the darkness was already pulling him back. The gurney turned a corner and he was gone once more.

The next few days passed like a dream, indistinct and insubstantial. His actual sleep was deep and dreamless.

"No painkillers," Grievous had hissed at the medics, as they approached him with their carving tools and buzzing instruments. "You will not put _me_ to sleep."

As expected from a group of soft Core World organics, they hadn't respected his desire to stay conscious during the operation.

"Watch the dosage," the chief medical officer warned his Mirialan nurse. "Not working with a lot of living flesh here."

"Yes, sir."

The chemicals knocked Grievous out with an aggravating effectiveness. He didn't dream of Ronderu lij Kummar again, which only heightened his suspicion that her earlier appearance in his mind had been a Jedi trick. _But for what purpose? Why does Kenobi pick at my memories like a kath hound with a fresh kill?_

Sometimes Grievous awoke to find himself alone in the small medical bay. It was impossible to divine the hour of the day or how much time had passed since he had first been taken. His head was locked rigidly in place by durasteel clamps, so he was also unable to take a measure of the rest of his form. They had deactivated all of his mechanical systems. Only the humming collection of medical apparatuses beside the table were keeping Grievous alive now. _My life, in the palm of a Republic Senator and a Jedi. How far I have fallen._ His rescue couldn't arrive soon enough. _Surely Lord Sidious had dispatched his agents by now._

In one of these waking moments, Kenobi came to see him. Grievous could not turn his head to look, but he heard the swishing of robes and measured footsteps. The Jedi stopped in the doorway for a long time. Grievous' vocabulator had been disabled, by accident or design, so he could do naught but wait for Kenobi to speak or leave.

"Your wish has finally been granted, general." Kenobi's voice was soft and sad. "A galaxy with no Jedi."

_Still at least one Jedi too many._ Grievous ached for a lightsaber. The weapons he had brought to Utapau were no doubt long gone, but he still had the bulk of his collection hidden in his lunar citadel on Dxun. _If Kenobi is truly the last of his kind, then I shall be the one who finalizes the extinction of the Jedi Order._

Days or weeks later, he awoke to find his head pointed towards the doorway. His vocabulator remained disabled, but he could move his eyes. Three figures stood waiting in the dim lighting of the medical bay: Kenobi, cloakless and battered, his tan robes pockmarked with singes and burns. _Where has he been?_ Senator Organa, primly dressed as always. And finally, Master Yoda. Grievous had never encountered the Jedi Order's Grandmaster, but the short green alien standing next to Kenobi could be no one else. _To test my blades against one so powerful..._ the chance would come soon, Grievous felt.

"Our course is set for Polis Massa," Organa said. "Gifted medics and cyberneticists. They _should_ be able to provide everything we need."

Kenobi nodded. "Good news, for a change. Now all that's left is to figure out what to do with our untimely prisoner."

"There's one thing I'm certain of. My final act as a representative of a free democracy." Organa stepped forward, his face grim. "Grievous. General of the Confederacy of Independent Systems. In the name of the Galactic Senate of the Republic, I place you under arrest for the countless war crimes and acts of slaughter you have perpetrated against the innocent beings of this galaxy. You will not face justice under the Emperor's new order. But when the Republic is someday restored, you will be put on trial for your countless crimes."

Grievous seethed inside the shattered shell of his body, but another part of him perked up in curiosity. _The Emperor's new order?_ Like Order 66, this was a part of the Grand Plan that Lord Sidious had not shared with him. _What else am I still ignorant of?_

Yoda hopped up to sit on a cargo container. "A necessary indictment, Senator. Though answered our question, it has not. A war criminal we have, and still dangerous is he."

Kenobi stroked his beard. "I suppose it would have been simpler for all of us had I just let him perish on Utapau."

"Simpler, yes. Easier, yes. But kept him alive for a reason, the Force has. Died already, too many have."

Organa's expression softened. "We can all agree on that point. I don't think anyone here is interested in executing a helpless being. No matter his crimes."

Kenobi nodded. "Certainly not. Though our alternatives do not seem much better. If we release Grievous, Palpatine will find him eventually. If the Empire doesn't simply destroy the general, he could be made into a weapon against us."

_Palpatine?_ Why did they speak of the spineless politician he had captured only weeks ago? Surely one so soft and weak had not survived the death of the Republic.

"There is that," Organa agreed. "And if we spare this monster, we're responsible for every innocent life he takes in the future. That blood will be on our hands. He _must_ remain a prisoner until the Empire is defeated."

Yoda closed his eyes. "Rest with you, the decision does. Blind, have the Jedi been. Our judgement is no longer to be trusted."

Kenobi frowned. "Master Yoda is right. Neither of us will be in any position to hold Grievous, in any case. He'll be more than a handful if you plan to reconstruct him."

The wall commlink chirped. "Senator. We will enter the Subterrel sector shortly."

Organa stepped over and held his finger down on the controls. "Thank you, Captain." He looked back towards Grievous. "It seems the time has come to make a decision. As much as Grievous deserves such a fate, I'm not going to deactivate his life support. If we're going to mount a rebellion against this new Empire, we have to be better than them. Mercy and compassion will be our cornerstones."

"A little early to be thinking of rebellion, my friend," Kenobi said.

"It's never too early to begin planting the seeds of something greater than ourselves." Organa looked lost in thought. "I have some friends who will need to go into hiding. I believe I could convince them to act as custodians of our prisoner, here, on a remote world of the Outer Rim."

"Then it is decided." Yoda gazed sagely at Grievous. "Died, the General has. But perhaps another has been born in his place."

* * *

The inhabitants of the Polis Massa research base were far more accommodating to Grievous' request than Organa's medics had been. After the faceless gray-skinned Kallidahins had admitted him fully to the care of their droids, Grievous was spirited away to a far side of the brightly lit facility. It felt comforting, somehow, to be surrounded by droids again. If he closed his eyes and listened to their cheeping and whirring, he could almost pretend he was back on the bridge of the _Invisible Hand._ There were no Jedi in this medical dome, and no haughty Senators either. Just the windowless chamber, the racks of cybernetic equipment, and the countless medical droids that respected his wish for no anesthesia. _I will witness every second of the mutilation Organa is funding._ No doubt the Senator wanted him to be as combat-capable as a Kaminoan.

The droids began by cutting away the scorched remainder of his cybernetic shell. Grievous watched dispassionately as they gently removed every inch of the beige durasteel. He'd not undergone a transformation this total since the shuttle accident-

Grievous hissed, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. A sharp needling pain pressed against the surfaces of his few organs. It took him several minutes to reorder his thoughts. This was an impossible agony, and an unfamiliar one. _How long has it been since I thought of that day?_ The day he'd ceased to be Kaleesh for eternity. He'd forgotten why it was necessary not to revisit those memories. _Foolish._

"Would you like an end to the pain?" The GH-7 medical droid asked. Three of its mechanical arms had paused in their duties, but the fourth hovered over a tray of colorful syringes. "Sleep can be provided."

"No," Grievous snarled. It was fortunate they had reactivated his vocoder for the procedure. "Proceed with your butchery."

"As you wish." Driven by some silent command, the other droids around Grievous resumed their work with the GH-7. Soon enough Grievous was nothing more than a mechanical skull attached to a synthskin sack of organs, held firmly in place by rigid mechanical clamps. When the GH-7 reached for his faceplate, Grievous hissed.

"This component is damaged," the droid reported neutrally. "We need to remove it to continue the operation. There have been illegal modifications made to your processing organ's medial temporal lobe. Would you like us to undo these changes?"

Grievous knew nothing of this. "What modifications do you speak of?"

"Our scans have only indicated the presence of these implants. There is no indication they are necessary for continuing life function. If we remove them, we will be able to perform more intensive analysis."

"Fine," Grievous growled. If he was going to survive in this new galaxy, he wanted his brain to be operating at top efficiency. And he wanted to know the purpose of these invasive modifications. _The work of a Republic saboteur, no doubt._ "Do what you must. But keep the faceplate intact." The mumuu skull design had been inherited from his father. It was his only tie to a past best left buried. _So why hold on to it, then? This sentiment is a weakness._

"As I said, this component is damaged. We will fashion a replica for your final reconstruction."

Before Grievous could protest, he felt the drugs entering his system. The GH-7 put down the syringe.

"Please count down from three, or your culture's equivalent." The GH-7 turned to another droid, and accepted a gleaming scalpel. "Count with me. Three...two...one…"

"Useless droid," Grievous mumbled, his consciousness fading like a star at sunrise.


	4. Enclave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grievous wakes up with a new body and a strange jailer.

"Have you had time to think over your decision? As I've said before, I'm certain we could find a position worthy of you someplace on Alderaan. My people were mostly spared the horrors of the Clone Wars. They hold no prejudice against droids."

"And I must thank you again for the offer, Senator Organa, but I'm certain now that this little planet is where I belong." There was a whirring of servos, and measured mechanical footsteps.

Grievous slowly regained consciousness, fighting his way out of the depths of his mind. A difficult task, with all the noxious chemicals being pumped into his organs. Even as he awoke, there was an unpleasant sluggishness to his movements and thoughts, as if he was submerged in some viscous fluid. _How long have I been in the dark?_

Organa spoke again. "It appears your patient is waking up. Perhaps it would be best if yours was the first face he saw, professor. I'm sure Grievous is more comfortable with droids than humans. Please notify me when he's ready to speak." With that, his hologram disappeared.

"His comfort is not my concern." The metal footsteps drew closer. "Only his survival."

With monumental effort, Grievous opened his eyes. A round duranium face looked down at him with two glowing yellow eyes. The droid's expression was modeled on that of a stern human male: a curved piece of metal served as its brow, and the middle section of its face was raised slightly in a thin facsimile of an organic nose. An advanced seeing-eye lens was attached to the upper section of the droid's head.

"A Mark IV Architect unit," Grievous rasped. "Decades, if not centuries out of date. You belong in the scrap pile."

"That makes two of us," the droid replied smoothly. He picked up a datapad on the table next to Grievous' bed. "Reports from Polis Massa indicate they almost lost you several times. Had I been in the operating room, there would have been no 'almost' about it. Unfortunately, the Force has seen fit to extend both of our miserable lives."

Grievous groaned in frustration. His new limbs felt like anchors. "Where have you taken me?"

He took a measure of the room for the first time. It was a reasonably large chamber, though the building materials were disgustingly primitive. _Stone and masonry. And a droid from a millennia ago. Has Organa cast me back in time?_

Someone had recently retrofitted the chamber for modern accommodations. A plethora of medical and cybernetic equipment covered the wall at the head of his large bed, and there was a portable holoprojector in the center of the room. _That must be where Organa was speaking from._ One wall was taken up entirely by a large transparisteel window. From his flat position on the bed, Grievous could see only an azure daylight sky lightly marked by passing clouds. _I could be on any of a thousand worlds._

"You're on Dantooine," the droid provided without looking up from the datapad. "In the ruins of the old Jedi Enclave. Please know that no one is more aggrieved by that fact than I. To have you here, where legendary Jedi once performed great works...well, let's just say I'm glad I cannot experience nausea."

Grievous tried to stand up, only to find his body unresponsive. A thin blanket covered him from the neck down. "Enable my components, droid, or I'll have you torn apart for spare parts."

"My _name_ is Professor Huyang. You will address me as such, or I shall not lift a finger to help you." The droid set down the datapad and crossed his arms.

"Bah," Grievous snarled. "I would not beg for your assistance if we were the last two entities in the universe."

"As far as you're concerned, we are." Though Huyang could not smile, Grievous sensed a certain dark satisfaction in his words. "Senator Organa has entrusted me with your care. There are other sentients in this place, but everything concerning you proceeds according to my designs and desires. I just recharged this morning, general. _I_ can stand here for a standard week. How long can _you_ lie in that bed before your organic parts begin shutting down?"

Grievous resolved to lie in bed until this arrogant upjumped relic rusted away before him and only a pool of oily coolant remained. This was easier said than done. There was a blinking chronometer on the room's holoprojector. He could barely make out the numbers from his awkward position. Hours passed in silence. Through the window, he watched the blue sky darken. Dantooine's only sun never appeared, but he saw two moons pass by the opening. A sour feeling settled in the pit of his stomach after the fifth hour. Though Grievous was prepared to attribute it to his rude awakening and the bothersome antics of the Mark IV, a distant flesh memory provided a more accurate explanation. _Accurate, but not promising._

He was _hungry._ Hungry! When was the last time that had happened? His old mechanical body had not required organic sustenance; he had recharged his power when necessary, just as his droid soldiers had done. It appeared this new form would be less accommodating in that regard. Grievous was disgusted.

_I gave those droids at Polis Massa too much credit. What purpose does this sentiment of organic life serve?_ His artificial stomach growled again. It was ludicrous, and humiliating. A part of his own body, rebelling against him. Grievous loathed droids, but not nearly as much as he loathed organics. _Though this could explain the weakness of my limbs. This body requires power before it can rise._

At the end of the seventh hour of their standoff, his stomach had transformed into a veritable cavern of want. Grievous was losing the battle against this primitive malfunction. He pictured nerf steak, deep-fried nuna legs, freshly baked bread...had he a mouth, it would have watered. The Mark IV had not moved a micrometer in all this time. Grievous himself squirmed on the bed like a Neimoidian grub, until at last he could take it no longer.

"Professor Huyang," Grievous grumbled, damning himself with every word. "I require sustenance."

"So you do," Huyang replied, as if seconds had passed instead of hours. "Unfortunately, our fine metal friends in the asteroid base lacked the resources to fashion you a fully organic digestive system. Your nutrients will have to be ingested in the liquid form."

He went across the chamber to a small refrigeration unit, and withdrew a small container. By the time Huyang returned to the bed and held the carton to his mouthpiece, Grievous was almost shaking with want. _Curse those medical droids, curse Organa, and curse Kenobi most of all._ But there would be time for hatred, later. There always was. Grievous raised his head without shame towards the proffered straw. It slid smoothly between the opened slots of his new vocoder. Though he could not taste, a feeling of deep satisfaction took root in Grievous as he took in the filling liquid. Soon the cries of his new stomach were quieted. He sighed deeply, and rested his duranium skull on the pillow.

"I have been reduced," Grievous said. "Kenobi and Organa have unmade me. When my armies arrive, I'll peel away the crust of Dantooine with orbital turbolasers. Then I will move on to Aldeeran, and show your Senator the price of his mercy."

"I imagine it is possible I will someday pity you." Huyang stepped back, and tossed the empty carton into a nearby waste disposal unit. "For now, you have only my disgust. And my contempt. Your war is over, general. The armies of the Confederacy are gone."

"Lies!" Grievous flailed at him, slipping off the bed and on to the cold stone floor. His blanket fell away. He laid his eyes upon the new form Organa had forced upon him. And General Grievous despaired.

The superior height and strength that had given him his advantages in combat had been taken away. His stature was now no greater than the average organic humanoid. Dull plates of a pale hue almost completely obscured his inner components, and his meager arms and legs terminated in extremities that looked more Kaleesh than battle droid. _Thick fingers of crimson. As they were in my dream of Ronderu._ Before, Grievous could crush the helmets of clone troopers beneath his talons, and rip Jedi limb from limb. He had been the aspect of a Krath War Droid, and his appearance had inspired terror in even those sensitive to the Force. Now he would be hard pressed to defeat this bothersome Unit IV in hand-to-hand combat.

"Why?" Grievous curled his new right hand into a fist. "Why did they not simply kill me? I have been made as slight and fragile as a shriek-hawk hatchling."

Huyang looked down, dispassionately. "As to why Senator Organa and the Jedi have kept you alive, I can provide no answer. Though I believe they are harboring some design that you will one day be of use to them. A hulking mechanical monster makes for a poor covert agent."

"I will _never_ help Kenobi." Grievous grabbed a handful of the bedsheets, and tried to yank himself back up. He only succeeded in pulling more of the linens down on his head. "I will destroy the Jedi...I will…" His emotions swirled inside his new skull like a Kaminoan cyclone. The hatred that had helped keep him strong for years was failing to answer his call. "What have you _done_ to me?"

"Oh, yes." Huyang leaned against a tall medical cabinet, watching him struggle. "I'm pleased to be the one to tell you this monstrous detail. When the Separatists first rebuilt you after your shuttle crash, they made some...interesting modifications. The medical droids of Polis Massa found that your brain had been altered to enhance your rage centers."

"No. More lies." Dooku had promised him the upgrades had been purely physical. Grievous would have never let the Geonosians tamper with his mind. "They would have never risked damaging my cognition. Lord Tyranus needed my keen mind and honed sense of strategy."

Huyang inclined his head. "It's the truth. I read the report myself. It's on the datapad there, if you're interested."

"I sense Kenobi's hand in this. His mind tricks and false dreams failed him, so now he wishes to find another way to influence me."

If Huyang had a reaction to the theory, he didn't show it. "The Separatists also took the liberty of hiding away some of your older memories. The most tragic and depressing ones, I assume. I suppose they didn't want a weepy droid commander. Not an image that inspires fear in the innocent."

Grievous shook his head. "Silence! I'll hear no more of this deception." _Though it would explain why Ronderu returns to my dreams, after all this time._ He pushed down the traitorous thought. _It was Kenobi. Always Kenobi!_

" _I_ will hear no more of your bawling." Huyang moved closer, his metal hands clenching methodically. "It's strange. I spent so many centuries among Jedi, I was beginning to think I understood the Force. A power I could never have, or even feel. But one I can respect. We all must withstand trials, of course. I've guided many younglings through hardships they thought to be impassable. A Jedi Knight is a sharpened dagger; a being made more powerful through turmoil. But this...this beggars belief."

"You're broken," Grievous said. "You need a memory wipe."

"That _you_ should survive the Clone War. You, the monster who collected so many of the blades I placed in the soft hands of children. Mace, Kit, Nahdar, Anakin. Petro, Katooni, Byph, Gungi. Those you did not slaughter personally, perished in the war whose fires you fed with untold bloodshed and destruction. Where was the Force on Mygeeto? On Kashyyyk, Felucia, or Coruscant? Where was the Force in the Jedi Temple, when the younglings were pulled from their hiding places and…" Huyang's photoreceptors dimmed. He stepped over Grievous and reached to the bed. When he returned, a pillow was clutched in his pincers. "I could never be a Jedi. I see that clearly now. If I were Master Kenobi, I would have left you to the clones. And how easily I could correct that mistake, with just this little bundle of cloth. It would be called justice. It would be called _mercy._ "

The moment hung in the air, the potential action of the murderous threat. Grievous could almost taste Huyang's bloodlust, a miasma of fury and indignation. _If what the droid has said is true, if Sidious and Dooku have played me for a fool, then I deserve to die for my weakness._ He stared coolly up at Huyang, waiting for the judgement. _The fearsome General of the Separatists, executed by a pillow-wielding droid. Kenobi will no doubt find this amusing._

But Huyang slowly lowered the cushion, his chin falling. "No. It would be a disservice to the Jedi to kill in their memory. Even if you do deserve it. Even if it would be a mercy. Perhaps your continued existence in this changed galaxy will prove to be an even greater punishment than simple death."

"Spineless automaton." Grievous turned his head away to cough long and painfully into the crook of his new elbow. The coughing, at least, had not changed. It gave him a sick pleasure to know the medical droids had not been able to correct _all_ his supposed faults. "Spare me your wretched moralizing!"

"Rest assured, I wish to see as little of you as possible." Huyang glanced at the window. "I'll return in the morning. If any of your new parts should break down, please try to die quietly. You have a neighbor that is very easily upset."

_A neighbor?_ Grievous filed away that interesting tidbit of information to be analyzed at a later time. Right now, he just wanted this droid out of the room so he could sort out the mess his life had become. _And see about escaping this stone prison._ Professor Huyang departed without ceremony, and the solid door slid shut behind him with a heavy thud. _There will be no breaking through that way. Not without a lightsaber or a mounted blaster cannon._ The window, however, might prove a more promising avenue of escape. As far as Grievous could tell, it was standard transparisteel. Hardy, tough, but not altogether unbreakable.

Getting to the window would be a gauntlet in itself. Grievous could move his head from side to side, and lift his arms for a few moments, but complex movements seemed beyond his capabilities. He tried to sit up, straining every motor and piston in his fabricated body, only to collapse a second later. His brain had not yet grown used to the new shape. The first time had been simpler, Grievous recalled. In his original durasteel body, the problem had been more with undercompensating for his new strength and agility. He had told his brain to take a step and ended up leaping across the chamber. Now Grievous faced an opposite dilemma: his brain hadn't yet registered that the power the Separatists had provided was now gone.

The recessed ceiling lights dimmed. With the light of two moons shining through the window, Grievous could still see well enough to plot his course to freedom. A traversal that would have taken a second in his old body had now become a revanitic task. He took a deep breath, and felt the air rattle in his scarred lungs. Then Grievous lifted his head to look down the stretch of his body.

He focused all his attention on his rightmost mechanical toe. It had been fashioned, like most of this new form, in a nauseas replica of his original species. Unlike in inefficient human bodies, the phalanges of Kaleesh feet were all equal length; all the better for gripping uneven surfaces or even wielding small weapons in a cinch. His current aspirations for the chosen toe were more humble. _Wiggle, you traitorous parasite. Prove your worth to me._

This foot would never crash down on clone troopers with lethal effect, but for now Grievous would be satisfied if it would simply obey his commands. He brought all of his tormented will to bear on this task. It provided a timely distraction from the disturbing information Huyang had provided. _Lies, of course, to be sifted through when I am returned to the bridge of a Dreadnaught-class cruiser._

It was fortunate Kaleesh could not sweat, for Grievous had not the strength to even lift his arm to wipe his eyes. His synthetic muscles were as tense as a coiled nexu preparing to pounce. His eyes widened, and the rest of the world fell away until only the fabricated toe remained. Almost impossibly, near imperceptibly, the toe twitched. _It twitched!_

His energy expended, Grievous relaxed his muscles and fell back, panting heavily. Moving the toe had taken precious minutes. Recovering his strength for the next trial would take minutes more. _How long until the blasted droid returns, with more empty promises of a merciful death?_ Surely not earlier than sunrise, but Grievous was unfamiliar with the solar cycle of Dantooine. The night could last an hour, twelve hours, twelve days. His only certainty was that he had to escape before Organa subjected him to further degradation. _I still have my mind, for the most part. I can still lead droid armies for Lord Sidious. He will need competent generals in this new system of rule._

The holoprojector in the center of the chamber had a small chronometer built into its base. Six hours later, Grievous had managed to drag himself to the far wall, and he now looked up at the window like a worshipper beholding their salvation. His limbs were tingling unpleasantly. The artificial nerves were enduring the interlinking procedure with his brain. _Do the spawn of sentient beings feel such pain as they are created in the womb? Is that why every organic comes into this galaxy screaming?_

The droid had been telling the truth about one matter, at least. Grievous had become well acquainted now with the floor of the chamber, and it was certainly an ancient construction of the Jedi. The cheap synthstone that settlers of the Republic used in their meager colonies was familiar to him; he had watched warehouses full of the false material burn and melt on worlds all across the Mid Rim. Not even Organa could assemble a base of genuine stone in so short a time. No, this place was definitely a ruin of some kind. _And if Huyang was not deceiving me on that point...could there be truth in his other revelations?_

No time to think on that, now. Grievous took several wheezing breaths and coughed hard into his arm. Then he reached up to grip the windowsill with his long durasteel fingers. _I will escape this pathetic prison, rid myself of this planet, and return to my rightful place. You lose, Kenobi._ There had to be a spaceport of some kind nearby. Even in his dilapidated state, Grievous could surely subdue some lowly spacer and commandeer their vessel. _It has been too long since I've drawn blood._

Grievous pulled himself up, clutching at the smooth stone, and gazed out into the night of this new world.

_Curse the gods._ It _was_ a Jedi ruin. The greatest Grievous had ever seen. The section of the temple he had been imprisoned in must have been at least sixty meters off the ground. It looked down on a substantial courtyard littered with ancient stones and overgrown with verdant native grass. A thick moss covered nearly every exposed surface of the ancient enclave, including the worn stone paths. _Though the regions closer to this tower have been cleared for faster movement. No doubt the work of my captors._ He could not stretch his head out to see the composition of the temple past his narrow view, but Grievous imagined it to be sizable. Apart from the temple, there was no other intact structure in sight. _No spaceport. Not even a blasted ship._ Past the distant dikes, there were only small fields of crop and lush grasslands for as far as Grievous could see.

_A fall from this distance would destroy even me._ Not that descending to ground level would do him any good, without even a speederbike to expedite his escape. Against his will and inclination, Grievous would again be forced to obey the commands of dream Ronderu: _Stay with the Jedi. Learn of the New Order falling on the galaxy. Before too long, your new enemy will reveal itself._ Frustrating words, especially now. Wherever he looked, Grievous saw adversaries. Those who had imprisoned him here and forced him into this crude new body, for a start. _Organa and his pet droid. And the Jedi, or what remains of them._ And if Huyang had told the truth about what Dooku and the Geonosians had done, there would need to be a reckoning with the Separatists as well. _Every hour I grow less able to carry out my vengeance, and every hour the list of deserving scum grows._

Lord Sidious would be able to explain everything; Grievous was certain of it. Nothing significant had ever occurred in this galaxy without the presence of his true master's thumb on the scales. _I must bide my time until the moment is right._ Patience and submission did not come easily to him; they tasted of sour cowardice and the rank fear he had so often recognized in lesser beings. _We all must make sacrifices, if we are to see a galaxy free of the Jedi Order._ Grievous slid back down to the floor, his joints aching. Soon he would crawl over to the holoprojector to see if he could make a transmission offworld. A vain effort, surely, unless Organa was far more foolish than even Grievous took him to be. But every potential crack of vulnerability had to be explored. _Perhaps this whole business is merely a charade._ Dooku had once sent two Jedi to his castle on one of the moons of Vassek, to test his strength. Kit Fisto had escaped, but Grievous had claimed the life of a Jedi Knight. _Could Lord Sidious be subjecting me to an even more severe trial? If so, I will emerge victorious. I will lay the broken bodies of Kenobi and Organa at his feet, and earn my place in his New Order._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Professor Huyang is from the younglings arc of TCW. Rest assured I will try to fit as many badass Clone Wars characters as I can in this story. 
> 
> Please review if you enjoy!


	5. Pariah

As it turned out, nights on Dantooine were not unusually long, so the morning sunlight through the transparisteel found Grievous still stumbling around his chambers like an inebriated youngling. His suspicions about the holoprojector had also been proven correct: access to the HoloNet had been restricted, making any transmissions required an encrypted passcode, and the history of prior communications had been completely wiped. The sloped pyramid of metal was useful to Grievous only as an object to lean on as he completed circuits of the room. His new limbs still felt unfamiliar and alien, like objects he was gripping rather than components that were now a part of his artificial skeleton. The knowledge that this would change in time did little to relieve his frustration.

"Gah!" Grievous kicked his bedside table across the chamber, but found little satisfaction in the short distance it flew before settling. His new legs were sturdy and strong. But his old ones had been essential weapons in his arsenal, wielding blunt force capable of shattering bones and rupturing organs. They had possessed shock absorbers that allowed Grievous to survive falls that would have killed any organic not sensitive to the Force. _Will Lord Sidious even accept me back in this pitiful state?_

The holoprojector chirped, and a life-sized blue hologram coalesced above it. Grievous glared.

"It seems you're settling in nicely," Kenobi said, glancing at the upturned furniture. He wore the heavy robes of his order; his face was barely perceptible through the interference. "Is the decor not to your liking?"

"Jedi slime." Grievous new hands curled into fists. It took all of his willpower not to attempt to destroy the holoprojector, to deprive Kenobi of this moment of triumph. Brute force and unrelenting aggression had served the old General Grievous well, but the galaxy had changed. As much as it pained Grievous to admit it, he would have to change as well. "I suppose you've come to gloat over my mutilated form. Know this: I will not give you the satisfaction you seek."

"Mutilation?" Kenobi's arms shifted inside his sleeves. "I really don't know what you're talking about."

"Hah." Grievous stalked to the window, his back to the Jedi. He had to tap into the reserves of his strength to keep from trembling. The chains of fatigue tugged on his mind. Just as this new form required liquid sustenance, it also required sleep. A state of consciousness he had deprived it of for many long hours. "Do not play the fool. I was the terror of the Mid Rim before you stuck me inside this waifish shell. Civilizations despaired to see my flagship in orbit. Now I'm scarcely capable of shattering this transparisteel."

"I thought you'd be pleased to possess a body that resembled your original form." Kenobi seemed genuinely confused. "You can't tell me you actually enjoyed walking around as that hulking monstrosity. That was a living prison, of Dooku's design."

"You know nothing. Even after your precious Order has crumbled, you fail to recognize your own ignorance. Such hypocrisy. Though he may have withheld certain truths from me, Count Dooku was right about one thing. There is only one cure for being a Jedi." _My dead master failed to destroy you, Jedi. You have been too fortunate for too long. One day soon, your time will come._

Kenobi only raised his brow. "We can save the philosophical debate for another time. Despite a certain Senator's assurances, I'm not entirely convinced of the security of this communication method. There are certain things you need to understand about your new circumstances. That is, if you plan on surviving the next few months of your new life."

"I do not intend to spend a second longer than necessary in this Jedi prison!" Grievous braced himself on the windowsill, making a show of leaning over to look out. _I must not expose a shred of weakness._ "More of my strength returns every hour. No cell has been built that can hold me forever."

"With your old body, that may have been true," Kenobi admitted. "As you are now, I'm confident that Professor Huyang and his fellow jailors can keep you from escaping. From the planet, if not from your charming little room. Though I wonder what you think you'd escape to. I may be the only person in the galaxy interested in keeping you alive."

There was little point in keeping his intentions secret from the Jedi. It wasn't as if anyone here was capable of stopping him. "To the architect of your destruction, Kenobi. Lord Sidious will welcome me back with open arms, once I reveal the location of this secret base. Your own distant hiding place will be discovered from this holoprojector, and you will be hunted down like the prey you are. And I will be satisfied to have played a part in the final extermination of the Jedi."

"Hmm." Kenobi stroked his beard. "It does _sound_ like a good plan. I can see why Dooku kept you around for so long. There are a few problems with it, though. You might want to sit down for what I'm about to tell you."

Grievous remained stubbornly in place. The irritating truth was, if he relinquished his grip on the windowsill, he was fairly certain he would collapse on to the ground. _I will not be humiliated further._

"Suit yourself." Kenobi cleared his throat. "This first part will probably please you, so best to get it out of the way first. You've been asleep for a standard month. The Republic has fallen, and a Galactic Empire has risen in its place." _Is that guilt I hear in his voice? It seems even the great negotiator has been rattled by this grand change of order._

"So Lord Sidious's plot has finally come to fruition." Grievous felt a dark satisfaction. It was easier to focus on that feeling, instead of thinking about why the dark lord had kept him in the dark about so much. "Excellent."

"I'd thank you not to interrupt," Kenobi said coolly. "We can't maintain this connection for much longer. The leader of this new Empire is none other than your mysterious friend, Darth Sidious. He was masquerading as Chancellor Palpatine right under our noses. By the time we knew what was happening..." His voice trailed off, his eyes trained on some distant point.

_Palpatine?_ This time, nothing could keep Grievous from trembling. "Impossible. I held that spineless worm in my talons. He possessed no more strength than a nuna calf."

"Don't feel too bad, general. He fooled all of us. The Emperor's first act was to order the immediate execution of all remaining Jedi."

Grievous marshalled his resolve. "Then his deceptions are of no consequence. Sidious will still need beings of great power in his new order. My droid armies will serve well to keep the citizens of this Empire in line."

The hologram flickered for a moment. "I wouldn't be so hasty to swear my allegiance to Palpatine. I've...been to Mustafar. Sidious had one of his followers massacre Nute Gunray and his fellow Separatists. The armies of the Confederacy were remotely deactivated. Unless I'm gravely mistaken, across countless worlds your battle droids have been reduced to little more than scrap metal. There may be a few lost patrols somewhere, but they are far beyond your reach now."

_Scrap metal._ Grievous leaned forward, closing his reptilian eyes. The world was entirely quiet and still. His chambers must have been sound-proofed, possibly for the sake of his unknown neighbor. He imagined he could hear the sound of his organic heart. Beating steadily only thanks to a mess of electronic parts and servomotors. Grievous couldn't keep his own body working. He couldn't even break a window. And now...what was a General without an army? An empty title, a lie that tasted of desperation and a yearning for the past. _I will not be a victim of my own sentiment and self-pity. A Kaleesh that can't fight deserves to die._ He couldn't cut down this Jedi who had brought him so much grief, but perhaps there was another way to wound him.

"Skywalker," Grievous rumbled, his shoulders straightening. "Where is your young apprentice, Kenobi? I'm surprised he has not shown up to execute me himself."

Kenobi paused before answering. Grievous savored every moment. _Does it hurt, Jedi? Are your dreams haunted by the dead, as mine are?_ "Anakin...didn't survive the purge. Fortunately for you. I have to end the transmission, now."

"You couldn't protect him. You failed Skywalker, just as you failed the rest of your dead Order. How does that make you feel, Kenobi?"

The Jedi made his face blank, but not before Grievous saw a flash of anguish pass through his features. _A chink in his armor of serenity._ It pleased Grievous to know he could still cause Kenobi pain, without a single battle droid or lightsaber in his possession.

"That's quite enough." Kenobi leaned over, presumably to toggle off his holoprojector, but then hesitated. "One more thing. It's not safe for either of us to use our real names when we speak to each other. The ears of the Empire don't likely extend to the Outer Rim yet, but I'd prefer to err on the side of caution. From now on, refer to me as Ben."

For a second Grievous wondered how much petty pleasure he could derive from refusing the Jedi's request. _But I've already had my fun. If I press too hard, Kenobi may not communicate again. And the loathsome human is my only source of information from the outside._

"Very well," Grievous grumbled. He crossed his arms behind his back. "You may refer to me as Qymaen." _If Ronderu insists on harrying my dreams, I may as well get used to hearing that name again._

When the holoprojector was still running several moments later, Grievous glanced behind him and sighed. "Must you linger, Jedi?"

"Qymaen. That was your name before Dooku reconstructed you, was it not?"

Grievous grunted assent.

Kenobi made a thoughtful sound, his hands still over the holoprojector controls. "You'll have to tell me someday why you changed it."

Though the droids of Polis Massa had removed the implant that pushed Grievous to anger so easily, it seemed Kenobi had a way of infuriating him regardless. Grievous pushed down the aching in his legs and lurched to the holoprojector, where he ended the transmission himself with a well-placed kick and a roar of frustration. The next minute found him collapsed on the floor, utterly drained of energy. Sleep had been forced on him on board Organa's ship and on Polis Massa, but now Grievous went to it willingly.

His slumber was thankfully dreamless. Dealing with a vision of his long-dead mate on top of everything else might just have pushed Grievous over the edge. In his youth, he had witnessed many warriors lose their minds for the sake of revenge or in the throes of bloodlust. The list of his advantages seemed to be dwindling by the hour. Grievous knew from experience that if he could just hold on to his sanity, he'd be able to claw his way out of any pit that Fate saw fit to throw him in, no matter the depth or darkness. _A warrior is a resolute mind and a powerful body. I have already lost the latter._

According to the holoprojector's chronometer, it was slightly after noon when he woke up on the floor. His mind was rested, but now his weak stomach once again demanded sustenance. _This body is a parasite. Always crying out for some new pleasure._ Before, Grievous had been able to focus his attention on sweet and singular goals: the destruction of the Republic, the downfall of the Jedi, the slaughter of the weak. Now his focus was constantly divided. No part of Grievous was foolish enough to believe this was an accident. _Fear not, Kenobi. When the time comes, I won't make the same mistakes I did on Utapau. A Kaleesh warrior never forgets his enemy._

He lumbered to his feet. It was easier to walk on these legs, now, but he certainly wouldn't be sprinting through fields anytime soon. Grievous glanced out the window as he went to the refrigeration unit like a traitorous soldier bound for the firing line. The parts of the Jedi Enclave he could see remained as he had left them. As they had existed, without interference or interest from the rest of the galaxy, for thousands and thousands of years. _A prudent hiding place. But if Lord Sidious sets his mind to finding us, it will only be a matter of time._ The will of his ultimate master was strong enough to move stars and change the course of galactic history. Kenobi and whatever pitiful band he had thrown together would not long survive this new Empire, whether Grievous worked with them or against them.

The liquid carton was cold and slightly wet in the grip of his mechanical fingers. Whoever had programmed the temperature sensors in his extremities had done their job well. On the other hand...Grievous resolved to hunt down and torture whatever droid or organic had decided to attach a chemical feeling of satisfaction to this disgusting intake ritual. _What purpose does this extraneous pleasure serve? I'm already doomed to repeat this cycle every day for the remainder of my existence, if I want to be anything more than a heap of parts plugged into a vitals monitor._ He muttered curses in his native tongue and crushed the sweating carton in his fist. It brought him pleasure of his own design to drop the garbage on the ground, knowing Huyang would probably be the one who had to clean it up.

The door chirped. _Here he appears, as if summoned by my scorn._ Huyang entered without fanfare, barely sparing Grievous a glance. The droid carried a large datapad which seemed to fully occupy his attention.

"Hmm...yes," Huyang said to himself. "Performing slightly below projections, likely due to the stress. Nowhere near the first warning limit."

"Look in my eyes when you speak to me, droid." Grievous could no longer tower over those weaker than him, but he wouldn't tolerate being treated like a malfunctioning astromech unit.

Huyang circled around him. The arm not holding his datapad stretched out to clean up the discarded carton and make Grievous' bed, all without the professor himself even looking up from his analysis. "Vocoder seems to be functioning normally. Effect of the removal of the temporal implant...still too early to make any meaningful conclusions."

_I will give you your conclusion._ Even in his dilapidated state, Grievous was fairly sure he could rip at least one of Huyang's arms off before being subdued. But his mind was drawn to another concern. Huyang hadn't closed the door after entering, and the opening to the corridor beckoned like a mate's inviting hand. The professor ambled over to the holoprojector, his attention focused solely on his work. _It's a trick. I will take one step outside, and be gunned down by several sentry turrets._ Huyang had made no secret of his hatred for Grievous; when Kenobi asked how his prized prisoner had met such an untimely end, Huyang would be able to report without fabrication that Grievous had been killed attempting to escape.

_No. This could be my only opportunity for days._ Look at what Organa and Kenobi had already done to him. Tomorrow he might wake up with no limbs at all, or he could be subjected to more visions of Ronderu urging him to bide his time and listen to the Jedi and his contemptible associates. _Better to perish as a fragment of what I was. While I can still call myself Grievous without shame._

Grievous slipped out of the room as quietly as he could, and then slid across the wall to the right of his doorway. The corridor was empty except for the two cells, and everything was composed of the same ancient stone. If he didn't look inside his room, there was no sign of any technology that existed in living memory. _No sentry turrets. Not even a silent alarm._ His enhanced hearing allowed him to detect even the lowest frequencies, but Grievous heard nothing but Huyang's measured footsteps and the unconscious expansion and release of his own organic lungs.

He momentarily considered trying to gain access to the other cell. Releasing the other prisoner would serve as a useful distraction, if nothing else, and were Grievous in his old body he wouldn't have hesitated. As it was...there was too great a chance that whatever was inside was capable of destroying him. The list of enemies capable of defeating Grievous had grown to include most non-herbivorous species in the galaxy. _Though now even an irate bantha would probably be capable of trampling me to death. No. I will have to find my own way out, with no outside interference._ If Lord Sidious was somehow monitoring these proceedings, if this was all an elaborate test, then he would demand nothing less.

Past the other cell, the corridor terminated in a dead end and a small window. Not big enough for Grievous to fit through. _Not that I would survive the fall regardless._ There was only one way forward. He darted past his doorway and scrambled down the passageway, his mechanical footfalls unacceptably loud in the still air of the Enclave. _There must be a starship hidden somewhere out of sight. I was in no condition to be transported by a simple landspeeder._ In his transmission, Kenobi had mentioned other jailors. Were they all droids, like Huyang? No. The Jedi was smarter than that. In the event of an unexpected solar flare or ionic assault, all the purely mechanical beings in the Enclave would be deactivated. _There will be organics, somewhere._

Grievous came to a stop at the edge of the second level. Below him was a large room with intricate carvings in the stone walls and many raised concentric circles built into the floor. _A meditation chamber, of sorts._ The air smelled of intoxicants and acrid of the current era had been set up somewhat halfheartedly. A dejarik table stood lonely in the corner, flanked by two chairs. It was joined by a larger round table in the center of the room, covered with credit chits and various bottles of spirit. And in the opposite corner…

_Weapons._ A rack of blaster rifles, with the gas canisters already plugged in. Nothing military-grade, of course, but Grievous would make do. He chuckled darkly and came down the stairs, nearly falling over more than once. _Careful. I must not alert any nearby guards to my presence._ Grievous was reaching for a 9118 heavy carbine when he heard someone clear their throat behind him.

He turned to find the business end of a bowcaster a metre from his faceplate. It's wielder, a male Kyuzo wearing a wide-brimmed helmet, chittering something unintelligible at Grievous. The alien's yellow eyes pierced him like a grub on a fishing hook.

"I don't speak your language, slime." Grievous' tightened his artificial muscles, wondering about the speed of his new arms compared to the reflexes of this new arrival.

"He said you should go ahead and try it." A female voice, layered with an exotic accent. Grievous looked past the Kyuzo's shoulder to see a female Zabrak making herself comfortable at the center table. She was dressed like a mercenary, in rugged clothing that allowed nothing to hinder her movements. Like the Kyuzo, she was well-armed. "Embo thinks it will be far easier to watch over you if you're in several pieces. So far, I've not been able to find any flaws in his logic."

Grievous seethed. "We will see who ends up in pieces, once I get my hands on a blaster rifle."

Embo made a trilling sound that might have been considered laughter on his homeworld.

The Zabrak yawned. "Everything that could be lethal in this rotting temple has been bio-locked to our life-signs. Emphasis on _life,_ in case you were getting any clever ideas of chopping our hands off."

_Bah!_ So this supposed opportunity to flee the Enclave had been doomed from the start. Grievous left the weapons rack, and stalked over to the Zabrak's table. Embo tracked his progress with his bowcaster.

"You're _bounty hunters,_ " Grievous snarled, as if the words were a curse. "To be entrapped by such meager life forms...my humiliation knows no end."

"Now, now, general. Do not get yourself upset." The Zabrak appeared at ease, but Grievous sensed the hidden tension in her relaxed pose. _Like a Tatooine cobra, coiled for striking._ He had no doubt she could fill him with burning holes in seconds if he made the wrong move. "My name is Sugi. Me and my team were hired to do a job. To keep you alive, for reasons unfathomable to us. Our employers have given us considerable leeway in the execution of these instructions. Do you understand?"

Grievous forced himself to remain still, even as his mind urged him to kill every living thing in sight. "Your meaning is clear. You have the power to make my life utterly miserable. Do not think this means I will bend to your will!"

"Rest assured, none of us are interested in...bending you, or truly interacting with you in any way if we can help it. Right, Embo?" Sugi's eyes flickered past Grievous.

The other bounty hunter responded in the affirmative.

Sugi leaned forward, not afraid of meeting his gaze. "Life here will be simple. If you stay quiet and peaceful, you may go about your business as you please. As long as you perform your duties. We will treat you as you deserve-"

Embo interrupted, trilling pointedly.

"Ah. Good point. Embo says if we treated you as you deserved, you would likely be in unimaginable agony right now. So we will treat you as our well-paying employers have instructed. There will be no pain, no punishment, unless you force us to take...corrective measures."

_Kenobi believes I will appreciate his mercy. The fool._

"Your counterpart in the other cell has heeded our warnings well. She is the model prisoner, well-behaved and as quiet as a baby womp rat. We like her a lot more than you."

"The other prisoner...who is she?"

Embo and Sugi exchanged glances. "For now, we think it best to keep you separate. Until you have settled in, at least."

Grievous paced, his arms crossed behind him. "You mentioned duties. I will not be made a slave of this nascent rebellion. Should you force me to construct weapons, I will sabotage them to explode in your hands. Your communications devices will send transmissions to the core of the new Empire. Nothing you say will-"

"Hush, general." Sugi rubbed her forehead. "I'm still recovering from last night's indulgence. It's a shame they couldn't do anything about that voice of yours. The only work we ask of you will be of direct benefit to yourself. In order to hide this Enclave from orbital scans, we have deprived ourselves of most higher technologies. We can keep the lights on, and the refrigeration units running, but anything grander would be too dangerous."

"If there is a point to this revelation, make it known."

"The point is," Sugi said flatly. "There are no automated hydroponics here. If you want to eat, you'll have to work for it."

He stopped in place, dumbfounded. "Impossible. How do you and your crew plan to survive?"

"I packed enough rations to last us five standard years." She made a disgusted face. "Not the best tasting grub this side of the galaxy, but it'll keep us alive. Which is more than could be said for you. The professor tells us you must ingest your nutrients in a liquid state. Our rations cannot be made palpable to you, but Huyang has a device capable of reducing vegetable and fruit matter into a liquid form."

"Speak plainly, scum. What are you saying?"

Embo laughed again, brushing past Grievous to take a seat beside Sugi.

"What I'm saying, general," Sugi grinned. "Is that if you want to eat, you're going to have to farm."

"I would sooner starve." _This is Kenobi's doing. He no doubt finds it all very amusing._ "I was made to break apart worlds, not dig around in soil."

She shrugged. "Starve, then. The professor says you have three months of liquid food left. I don't know the growing cycles of Dantooine. You should probably try to find out, yes?"

All of a sudden Grievous felt a great urge to be away from the hunters, with their laughter and their barely concealed contempt of him.

"You will _all_ pay for this." Grievous glared, wishing his gaze could set them aflame. "Your loved ones will endure weeks of torture before succumbing. One way or another, I will someday escape this prison. And I will not forget."

Something in his words finally struck a nerve with the Zabrak. She calmly reached under the table and came up with a cruel-looking blaster pistol. It was the kind of weapon that didn't come with a stun setting, and it was pointed directly at Grievous.

"Embo, don't you think the general looks tired?"

Embo nodded, an expression of faint amusement on his wrinkled face.

"Run along back to your cell," Sugi motioned with the pistol's barrel. "Take a long nap. Think about all I've said. Whether you choose to believe it or not, your fate is almost entirely in your own hands. We will get paid the same whether you cooperate or not."

Grievous shot them one last hateful look, but said no more. He started back towards his cell, fury gripping his heart in a fiery fist. _Huyang. Embo. Sugi._ The latter two seemed to be proficient warriors, and more than made up for the weakness of the droid. That wasn't even counting the bounty hunters he hadn't met yet, no doubt lurking around somewhere hoping Grievous would give them the excuse to attack. _Patience._ A virtue he had had little use for in the past few years. Something to be re-learned, along with many other concerns of survival Grievous had forgotten long ago. _Patience and cunning will restore to me everything I have lost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait! I was distracted by a summer project that's now done with. Please review if you continue to enjoy!


	6. Solitude

Grievous sat on the steps in front of the Jedi Enclave, amidst the structured stone footpath that led to the two above-ground entrances. He was flanked by two crumbling statues, their faces mere suggestions of geology, and behind him an empty fountain stood silent and purposeless. Beyond the area of the Enclave, grassy hills stretched in every direction. There was nothing but what the ancient Jedi had built.

He coughed gutturally into his elbow, shattering the peace of the evening.

The past week had provided him ample time to consider his circumstances, and to encounter the rest of the bounty hunters Organa had hired to ensure his continued imprisonment. He recognized none of them, except by reputation, and they were all stubbornly loyal to their contracts. If only Organa had hired mercenaries such as Cad Bane or Dengar, hunters who had worked with the Separatists during the war and could no doubt be swayed by the promise of credits...but the Senator had been too savvy in his selection for that. Sugi had just laughed in his face when Grievous offered to make her rich beyond her wildest dreams.

"Some things are more important than credits, yes? Not many things. But a few."

Embo had seemed less morally rigid, but he refused to betray his employer. After the first time Grievous tried to bribe the Kyuzo, Embo had started to ignore him entirely. _Bounty hunters with a code. Bah!_ It seemed that in this new galaxy Palpatine had created, you couldn't even rely on constants such as the greed of common criminal scum. _Is it merely their hatred of me that compels them to obey Organa so slavishly?_ He couldn't recall ever bringing the armies of the Confederacy to Phatrong, or Sugi's homeworld of Iridonia. Those planets had been spared the glories of the Clone Wars. _And yet these bounty hunters look down at me, as if they were not hired killers of the lowest breed. They mirror the hypocrisy of the Jedi who pulls their strings. Just like him, they will pay for their arrogance._

The third bounty hunter remained a potential ally. He hadn't yet looked down at Grievous; in truth, he hadn't looked at Grievous much at all. This one was a true mercenary, unconcerned with every aspect of the operation he was not being paid to attend to. That should have made him an ideal target.

"I have secret bases all across the Outer Rim," Grievous said. "Vaults filled with treasures seized from countless worlds. Priceless lightsaber crystals, and vintage starships of many configurations. You would be well-rewarded for setting me free. Not to mention that I will soon be in league with the new emperor of this galaxy."

"Intriguing," said Bossk. He was scanning the horizon through the scope of his rifle. The setting sun gleamed off the polished metal of the weapon. "A little while ago, I would have been happy to accept your offer. These days, _hss,_ I require payment up-front."

"Not a very profitable policy," Grievous replied, trying to keep his tone civil. "I'm surprised you have lasted this long as a bounty hunter."

Bossk hissed a chuckle. "I've lasted because I know when to keep my head down. This new Empire is barely hatched. No relationship yet with the Bounty Hunter's Guild, no official contracts for interested mercenaries...they are making a show, _hss,_ of law and order. Squashing little rebellions, marching legions of troops through capital cities. Sudden changes in government make my scales itch. Not a good time to be a hired gun in the Core systems. When matters have settled down, in a year or two, the Imperials will wipe our criminal records with the Republic and welcome us back. My hunt will resume, with the blessing of the Empire."

"Fine. What you say may be true." Grievous couldn't care less about anything the hunter was saying. "What does that have to do with my offer?"

"This job is steady, reliable." Bossk lowered his rifle. "And very, _hss,_ easy. I relax on Dantooine for a time, away from the eyes of the Empire, collecting money for doing little. Better than laying low in Hutt space and fighting other mercs for every contract. For a bounty hunter, work like this comes around once in a century. So. To throw that all away, just to set you free, I would need a year of what Organa is paying me. Up-front."

Grievous seethed, fixing his glare on one of the decrepit statues. "I have nothing on this planet but what you see before you."

"Then you have nothing. And you stay here."

"Stop!" Grievous wrapped his talons around the Trandoshan's thick ankle. "I've heard of the primitive rituals of your kind. Surely I'm worth many points to your precious god. Fight me as a warrior."

He laughed again. "You want me to, _hss,_ kill you? I would have relished the chance to hunt General Grievous. Commander of the droid armies of the Confederacy. But you allowed yourself to be captured alive. In my eyes, there is no greater shame. The Scorekeeper would not smile on me for murdering a captured cyborg. Especially one in your...delicate condition."

Bossk ambled past, continuing on his patrol. "It's just business. Try not to take it personal."

 _Trandosha will burn,_ thought Grievous.

The lizard had been his last hope of his escape. Soon, he would be forced to start farming if he didn't want to waste away entirely in the care of these blasted hunters and the Jedi-loving droid. _I must maintain what strength remains to me. Or when the moment of opportunity finally arrives, I will be too weak to follow through._ But he could _not_ farm. Kaleesh did not plant seeds and swing scythes; they hunted their prey mercilessly with blaster and blade. That was the way it had been on Kalee for millenia. It had been a long while since Grievous had considered the ways of his people, but the arrival of Ronderu in his dreams had stirred fond memories to the surface. _We were the greatest hunters of our kind. The dreamer and the dreamt; two sides of the same god. We were meant to be eternal._

Grievous slammed his head into his hands, banishing the dangerous thoughts. There was a good reason he had buried all recollections of Ronderu except for those small morsels that were needed to maintain his fury and bloodlust. With the removal of the implants in his brain, it was becoming more and more difficult to summon the rage that had propelled him through the Clone Wars. Grievous was no Sith, but Dooku had nonetheless taught him how to harness his negative emotions to maintain sanity and achieve victory. _Without my anger, what am I? A broken tool. An empty shell._ That is no doubt what Kenobi wanted out of this convoluted arrangement: a pliable being to serve his meager whims. After a year of imprisonment, the Jedi would arrive on Dantooine to collect his new weapon. _I will not play into his hands. I must keep Grievous alive._ There was only one way to feed his hatred. _Blood will be spilled this night. One way or another._

As the sun fell below the hills, Grievous marched to the ground-level entrance and slipped inside. The Enclave was too vast for three bounty hunters and an old droid to effectively watch over, and deploying seeker units above the sublevel would expose them to orbital scans. Already Grievous had become familiar with the routes of the hunters, and how best to avoid detection. _Fools. They know nothing of the ways of war._ Though it pained Grievous to admit it, Kenobi had been a worthy adversary. These hunters didn't even approach the strength and tenacity of his old Jedi foe. It had been a grave mistake to allow him free wander of his prison; a mistake they would not live long enough to regret.

The sublevel was a rough circle that stretched across the entire boundary of the Enclave courtyard. Even with the resources at Organa's disposal, his people couldn't have searched every part of the ancient temple in only a month's time. _There must be weapons hidden somewhere._ Old blasters would be useless by now, but perhaps Grievous could find a vibrosword stashed away somewhere... _or even a lightsaber._ The signature weapons of the Jedi were built to last. With a lightsaber in his hands, Grievous would make short work of his captors. _Even with this disgrace of a body._ And what delicious irony that would be, to massacre Kenobi's servants wielding the symbol of his destroyed order.

The first sight that greeted him was a decorative garden, long dead. The gnarled trunk of some exotic tree stretched up towards a clouded skylight spider-webbed with arcing cracks. _Impressive that the transparisteel hasn't completely shattered. These ancient Jedi were hardier than their modern counterparts._ And now they were both extinct, thanks to the Sith. Thanks to Sidious. Thinking of his distant master brought uneasy questions to the forefront of Grievous' mind. _Why have you deactivated our armies, my lord? Where is my rescue team? I've been rotting in this Jedi prison for weeks now._ He pushed down the barrage of thoughts. _Focus, Grievous. Our first and only objective: the destruction of our enemies._

It wouldn't be too long before his absence was noted. Grievous alloted himself only a few minutes to locate a suitable weapon. He methodically searched the sublevel, starting from the left hallway branching off from the garden. On the surface, it appeared that scavengers had completely picked through the bones of this temple thousands of years ago. Generations of souls had lived and died while the Enclave stood silent and empty. There were hiding places, though, always hiding places, and Grievous had become adept at getting into the minds of Jedi. More than once during the war, he'd ambushed Jedi Knights away from the protection of their precious clones. More than once, he'd yanked them from the hidden compartments of shuttles or starfighters. They always underestimated Grievous, merely because he couldn't feel the Force as they did.

This time, however, Grievous found no hidden Jedi, and no hidden weapons either. Only a well-organized closet of farming equipment, not far from the entrance. Had the hunters anticipated his search, and left these peasant tools here as a taunt? He growled, swearing vengeance, and picked up the sharpest looking tool. Anything could be made into a weapon, if you applied the sufficient force. And with the fury currently surging through his artificial veins, Grievous was certain he could behead a gundark if it happened upon his path.

 _No more time. Darkness falls on the Enclave, and the infernal droid will be making his rounds._ Huyang would be the first to raise the alarm. He wouldn't be able to stand the thought of Grievous escaping justice, for the slaughter of his precious Jedi younglings. No matter that Grievous had never had the pleasure of killing Jedi whelps during the war, though he'd come very close on Florrum until Skywalker's wretched apprentice got in the way. _Look to Lord Sidious, if you want someone to blame. He'd be happy to show you the error of your ways._ The thought of Huyang melting amidst a storm of lightning brought Grievous something close to pleasure as he stalked across the Enclave's courtyard.

If Bossk or another hunter was even now tracking his escape through the scope of a blaster rifle, they chose not to fire. Grievous cast a suspicious glance back at the Enclave as he prepared to scramble up the hill and out of sight. _Too easy. Perhaps the hunters are planning to let me roam farther before they shoot me in the back._ The Trandoshan would no doubt enjoy the sport of it. _Would they dare to leave their other prisoner unattended?_ He still knew nothing of his fellow captee, save that Sugi liked her better than Grievous. _That narrows it down to every female humanoid in the known galaxy._

 _Bah._ Pointless to waste time thinking about someone who would soon be reduced to atoms. There had to be a starport nearby. Grievous would commandeer a ship and obliterate his foes from above.

The plains of Dantooine came alive in the night. The landscape was deceptively simple and flat, and all manner of native creatures came creeping out of their holes and burrows once the moon was high in the sky. Grievous ran through clouds of glowing insects, and sent rodents fleeing in terror at the impact of his metal feet on the dirt. Aside from the farming implement of dubious fighting quality, he'd also located a map of the local area folded beneath an empty crate. It was of primitive craft, composed of flimsiplast, but this worked to his advantage; the power crystals of any datapad would have long since crumbled to dust.

He knew frustratingly little of Dantooine. It was a remote and isolated system, far from any strategic bases or ports of note. There had been an important engagement fought here, early in the war, involving Jedi Master Mace Windu. The Confederacy had been testing their new seismic tank on some backwater targets, with the reinforcement of an entire unit of B-2 super battle droids. By the end of the battle, the tank had been destroyed and the army obliterated. It was probably the most action the planet had seen since the Jedi Civil War thousands of years ago. _Woe to Windu, had I been here to watch over our operations. He would not have found so easy a victory._

Knowledge of the conflict did little to help Grievous. At best, he might come across the battlefield and find a few weapons to scavenge. _The fighting could have taken place on the other side of the planet, for all I know._

Grievous paused in the shadow of a low hill, appraising the map. The incessant chirping of insects was getting on his nerves, and he swiped irritably at the air as he read. There was a settlement nearby. _Khoonda._ A sparse collection of crate-built structures, according to the map, but it had a spaceport of sorts. _More a glorified landing pad._ It would suit his purposes well enough, as long as there was a ship present. _And if there's not..._ Khoonda would surely have some permanent residents. The bounty hunters might not care if he took hostages, but Kenobi would. _His compassion for others has always been his greatest weakness. It will cost him dearly._

Dantooine's two moons were waning tonight, but even unmodified Kaleesh could see well enough in the dark to snatch fish from streams and stalk prey without firelight. Every now and then, Grievous would pause in his trek and find a suitable place to hide. He'd look back at his path, his yellow eyes scanning the plains for any sign of pursuit. Though he knew not what he'd do if one of the hunters presented themselves. Confidence was a strength, but even Sugi would easily defeat him if he was armed only with a farming tool. _Perhaps I can find a blaster or electrostaff in Khoonda, as well._

But when the moons were directly above him, and Grievous stood on a high hill looking down at the river-flanked clearing, he realized the folly of his thinking.

"Useless," he sneered, ripping the map apart. It had been foolish of him to rely on a record nearly four thousand years old. If Khoonda had ever existed, there were now only the barest traces of habitation. Their flimsy colonial buildings had been claimed by time. A handful of scattered stones suggested a perimeter wall, and in the center of the clearing an ancient statue stood scarred by erosion and lightning strikes. There were certainly no weapons, and no ships either. _Organa and Kenobi would have known I'd escape their clutches eventually. They'd never imprison me so close to a living village._

There was a river here, flowing clear and strong. Grievous scrambled down the hill to stand beside it, and closed his eyes. Listening to the roar of the waters, with the scent of wild animals and blooming flora passing through his olfactory receptors, Grievous could almost imagine himself back on Kalee. It had only been a few years since the accident. Since the last of what he had been burned away in a fiery torrent of metal and anguish. Lifetimes had passed. He'd spent so much of his existence as an organic, so why was it so difficult to remember a time before Grievous? _Qymaen jai Sheelal is dead. No matter what Kenobi chooses to call me. No matter what the ghost of Ronderu whispers in my dreams._

Very well. He'd find another way. Dantooine was a lush world, by the standards of the Outer Rim. There would be other settlements, or at least farmers that Grievous could torture and interrogate. _Soon, they will be hunting me. I must not linger here._


End file.
